


there's a full moon somewhere (maybe it's in your eyes)

by rottedflowerpits



Series: Drabbles/Tumblr requests [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anal Sex, Humiliation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but here we are again, i...i don't really know what else, this has been covered time and time again, with the
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottedflowerpits/pseuds/rottedflowerpits
Summary: Ropes always make for a fun time. Even better are the cheap, shitty ropes Keith forgot he still had in his belt from back home. Sturdy enough to hold his weight and tie him down, when Shiro's in the mood for it.





	there's a full moon somewhere (maybe it's in your eyes)

**Author's Note:**

> This was taken as a prompt...so long ago. It was [one of the softer world prompts](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=1011), though, and I always like having an excuse to poke at them. So here we are! Hope y'all enjoy it. 
> 
>  
> 
> [you can find me at my tumblr, too!](https://rottedflowerpits.tumblr.com/)

“Doing this...” 

Shiro accentuated the words with a swipe of his palm up the inside of Keith's thigh, pushing it to the side and forcing it wide. Keith sucked in a deep breath, wrists writhing underneath the harsh bite of cheap rope keeping them bound together above his head. 

“Doing this, is the only thing that makes me feel like you're really _mine._ ”

It was a grating word, an ugly one. No one really _belonged_ to another person, but it was a guilty indulgence of Shiro's. Keith played to the tune of it, though, how it warped Shiro's body against his and, for once, made them fit perfectly together. After all, Keith couldn't do much of anything else in the situation aside from submit, to bend to Shiro's will and meld into the wavelength of his existence. 

For once, he was all Shiro's, for as vile as it made him feel. 

“It should be the other way around,” Keith mused, as he did every time, in between heavy kisses that left his mouth feeling cold and his skin feeling dry. He moaned lowly when Shiro answered with a bite to his clavicle, and he knew that was his answer: it shouldn't be the other way around. 

Keith was that wild flame they both knew too well from their estranged youth. He wasn't permanent, he wasn't meant to stay; he was out of the world, the universe (and literally, too, to make things worse). Keith wasn't eternal. Keith was meant to leave, to grace his presence through the halls of acquaintances' existences, to become a forgotten cobweb in a dusty room someone, everyone, never used. 

Keith was transparent and awful, alive and the source of everyone's envy. Blessed with lucky sevens and an effortless talent others would die for, Keith was the kind of person to leave another bleeding and vulnerable, left wondering why life had dealt them such a cruel hand. 

Shiro had felt the bite many times, too many times, to count. But he'd learned to reiterate the feeling, to grab Keith by the jaw and force him to the mattress. It didn't take long before they were clawing at each other, desperate to tear into the satin skin of what barely kept them alive. 

And soon, Keith was _his,_ spread wide and bared for Shiro's gaze to indulge upon, tied by the four corners of his universe and bound in a way that made escape impossible. 

Keith could easily wriggle free, but what was the point in anyone putting forth that kind of effort when it was such cheap nylon rope cutting into their skin?

He sighed, a lazy smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. “This is really unnecessary, Shiro.” 

“Not to me.” 

Shiro returned the expression, wicked and playful, his hands gliding easily over the planes of Keith's taut sides. His muscle was stretched thin over each rib, showing off bone and lithe tracks of sinew woven in between. Shiro traced each line, the blunted edge of his fingernails making Keith shiver. 

Suddenly, the _point_ was all too obvious, and Keith bit his lower lip with an irritated groan. 

“Don't keep me waiting, now,” he muttered uselessly, goose flesh rising in a wave across his skin, chasing each finger of Shiro's as they drew slow circles into his hip bones. Shiro didn't let up, swiping his hands across Keith's abdominals. It made his navel dip and a heady sigh escape his lips, and fuck, he could tell he was blushing. 

Shiro grinned, but he wore that kind of I'm-totally-not-grinning expression that made Keith want to vomit— but god, that could wait until later. Shiro's fingers brushed over the head of his exposed cock, and there came a heavier whine that cracked Keith's esophagus in two and sent the burn in his cheeks towards his chest. 

Shiro ran his other hand over the red in his dipped clavicle, and Keith swallowed the protest brimming at the back of his throat. 

“Is it good, baby?” Shiro asked, tender and sweet, hiding the malice in his voice Keith knew he wanted to unleash. But that was for later, _later,_ and Keith hid his embarrassment in the side of his strained bicep as he nodded. 

“Yeah.” 

Shiro dipped lower, against the gradual slope of Keith's breastbone. He smothered it in hot, wet kisses, trailing saliva to the pert nub of Keith's nipple. Keith's cock twitched and he arched helplessly into the hot cavern of Shiro's mouth, melting in a weak shudder as his tongue and teeth worked at his sensitive skin. 

Shiro's hand abandoned its work at Keith's dick, coming up to massage his other pectoral instead. It was insufferable teasing, but it had Keith completely breathless and bent to Shiro's whim. Shiro pulled away, slowly, tracing the edge of Keith's areola. 

“You're always so impatient,” he said, his voice husked to a pitch lower than what Keith was used to. It washed over him like smoke, clogging his nose and throat and rendering him speechless. 

“One and done, and that's it. Insisting I pound you into the mattress...” 

Shiro's hand turned around the gradual plane of Keith's ribcage, down to his waist where he grabbed it, rough and with intent to bruise. That hand's warmth and utter size, the knowledge it could break him in half, had Keith unable to hold back his pithy moans, his eyes wide underneath his shaggy excuse for bangs. 

Shiro swiped them to the side, pressing close to Keith's groin. His own was still clothed, and feeling the bulge against his bared cock was nearly more than Keith could take. 

But that was the _point._ Keith caught it and held it in the front of his mind, steeling his trembling muscles and puffing his chest out towards Shiro. 

“It's better that way,” he argued, his case as weak as he was against the blankets. They chafed, they burned, enough that Keith was sure he was going to catch fire at any second. 

Shiro's gaze turned sharp, aimed at Keith from the corner of his eyes. “No,” he said, grabbing Keith by the cock, “it's really not.” 

The pain of Shiro's harsh grip squeezing his shaft and jerking it upward brought tears to the corners of Keith's eyes, and never more than in that moment did he hate not having something to hide his face in. All Keith could do was writhe and whimper as Shiro dragged his thumb across his weeping slit, catching the pearled precum and teasing it down a protruding vein. 

“For as much as you like to say my whole patience speech stuck with you, you really don't show it.” Shiro's face fell into an almost bored pout, cocked to the side with his eyes aimed downward. Keith had nowhere to hide underneath his scrutiny, and he bit his lip as he craned his head as far back as it would go against the mattress. 

“Even when I remind you of it, even when your own mouth repeats what I said, you're still pedal to the metal and gun into the nearest danger next to us. I love you, Keith, but I don't love that hot-headed, misplaced ego of yours.” 

Keith swallowed hard. His face burned, even more so the words to cut back and argue, but Shiro had him compromised. Shiro, more clever than he liked to let on, knew how to make Keith listen. And Keith was stuck, Shiro's weight digging into the hollows of his hips as he pressed it all into his trembling frame. 

“You're awful, but that's probably why I love you.” 

Shiro purred the words into Keith's ear, biting the shell. Keith yanked his head to the side, only for it to be caught in the palm of Shiro's grip, his thumb and forefinger digging into the corners of his jaw. Shiro forced Keith's expression forward, his eyes level with Shiro's own. He had Keith in a quiet compliance, leaving no room for even his eyes to fall to. 

Keith stared into gunmetal grey, terrified and with a simultaneously twitching dick. He could feel Shiro's heat just above his, so close and yet so far away. Tears finally met the lower waterline of Keith's eyes, and he whimpered, quietly, to his shame and Shiro's satisfaction. 

“But you're a good boy,” Shiro murmured, delivering a harsh slap to the side of Keith's ass. Mixed signals, just the way he liked it, and enough of a bite to make him softly yelp. Keith squirmed, unsure if the moisture that had gathered underneath the rope was sweat or blood. 

“You're always such a good boy...” 

Shiro's hand moved slow with his words, up Keith's middle and stopping at his chest. It rubbed the dip of his breastbone, his fingers tracing small circles in the skin. Keith swallowed hard, forcing his head to rest against the blankets. He knew what was coming, wanted it to happen, but...

But Shiro was pulling back, dragging a swear from Keith's lips as he moved. 

“Patience,” he reminded Keith, his voice a light trill that scraped against the straining tension of the moment. Keith exhaled hard, yanking firmly at the rope once before going limp. 

“All right,” he muttered, leaning his thigh into Shiro's hand as he felt it move against his skin. It traveled around to the inside of his toned muscle, and Keith watched as Shiro forced it to the side, his very nonhuman hand working the front of his belt. 

It was a sight Keith had seen innumerable times now, but one he watched with a certain reverence anyway. After all, it wasn't just anybody Shiro whipped his cock out for; it was a special screening for Keith's eyes only, and he had the privileged front seat to watch Shiro pull it from his briefs with a hefty gasp. 

Keith watched Shiro stroke himself, his hand fisted around the girthy length, slow and lazy with a similar tempo to his hips to match its pace. “I could come just like this,” he moaned, head tilted back, ecstasy dripping from every syllable he uttered. “With the sight of you, like this, underneath me. I could come just like this, giving you nothing, and make you come running back to me over and over again for _Daddy_ to finally give you some relief.” 

Shiro spanked Keith's ass hard again, the sting resonating with that _name_ that Keith both loved and hated. He cried out pathetically, desperately swallowing the noises that hammered against his throat. This was unfair, and Shiro knew it, and he knew he had Keith past pointed glares and poignant demands. He had Keith unwound and tamed, begging with his eyes to be forced open and ruined already. 

But Shiro didn't like the quiet. Especially Keith's silent monologues. He pried into them, leaning close, close enough for his breath to fan out against Keith's cheek as he whispered so sweetly, so tenderly: 

“Tell me how much you want it, baby.” 

He stilled, one hand on Keith's shoulder, the other on his hip. His cock was pressed to the curve of Keith's hip, heavy and with a healthy distance from his own. It made Keith squirm, rewarding himself in a tightened embrace of Shiro's hands digging into his skin. Shiro squeezed and Keith gasped, his exhaled breath stuttered, his voice raw as he stammered out his quiet, reluctant plea. 

“P...please,” he started, rolling his eyes to the top of his skull, swallowing hard as Shiro only bore down all the more firmly. “Please. I...I want it. I want _you.”_

Keith bit his lip. Shiro knew that was all he was going to get, and Keith actually prayed he _knew_ that was all he was going to get. A pregnant silence bloomed between them, Keith's breath caught on the edge of Shiro's teeth, and an eternity passed before Shiro moved. 

“Good boy,” he murmured again, groping the downy skin of Keith's ass. He dragged the rest of the air from Keith's lungs with a deep kiss, teasing his mouth with the brief probing of tongue and teeth. But even Shiro had his limits, and as he moved away, Keith could see in his eyes that he was nearing them.

Keith heard the familiar sound of the lube's top being popped, the god-awful _squelch_ as Shiro forced the last dregs into his palm. Keith forced his gaze to the ceiling, refusing to buckle underneath the radiating heat and intent on keeping what was left of his pride mostly intact. 

It was one thing to admit to what got him off, and it was another to put it into practice. 

He hated that it felt like a noose every time Shiro brought it up, that it felt like a commitment on another plane of their existence. He hated that he was the way he was in the first place, so eager to to be fleeting and momentary. It was just...conditioned behavior, he supposed, and a guilt that tasted like generic cherry-flavored cold medicine dripped down into his stomach and turned it sideways. 

Keith didn't have much time to recover as the head of Shiro's cock probed his hole. “Jesus Christ,” he started, “are you seriously going to—” 

Shiro cut him off before he could finish, and Keith's answer pushed into unprepared muscle with a pressure that choked him. _“Shiro,”_ he breathed, the penetration making him tense to the point pain flared out from his groin and Shiro hissed his guilty appreciation. 

“Just relax, babe,” he encouraged, massaging Keith's ass apart with both hands. “I got you...” 

Not quite what Keith was looking for, but it was the kind of subtle comfort, the calm before the storm, that he sunk into anyway. Keith's chest caved, and he focused on the piercing warmth in the lower half of his body as opposed to the kind painting a trail from ears to chest. Keith didn't know why modesty and demureness were suddenly painting the theme of their current tryst, but he swallowed around the ball it formed above his Adam's apple, forcing it down as Shiro slid to the base. 

“Oh my fuck,” he said, tears edging at the strain to his voice. Keith felt him jerk his hips, and it was the appeal of sudden rectal collapse that made him move with the motion. Like swallowing needles coated in honey, Keith reveled in the sensation of being split prematurely in half, and Shiro took the advantage in hand. 

_“Keith...”_

The devout tone to Shiro's mantra was the Yang to his motion's Yin, and he effectively cut Keith's vocal cords in half. Shiro skipped the gradual incline and dived straight into pounding Keith's ass, holding him by the hip with an elbow pressing hard against his frail shoulder. 

Keith sucked in a hard gasp, his limbs straining against their restraints. It was _unfair_ that he couldn't rip back into Shiro, to use his vantage point to knock him onto his ass and show him the other end of their little deal; and Shiro knew that, and Keith could see the wolfish hunger in his eyes as they met his again, hunger and piqued pleasure meeting in the middle to mix and remind them both of their mutual masochism. 

Keith craned his head back, giving in. Shiro moved with the consent, wrapping his Galran hand around the pale length of Keith's neck. Spread and vulnerable and not something Shiro would have done if they weren't so far gone, he took Keith by the jugular and burned the skin, threatening to crush his windpipe and end his paltry life right there. 

Keith gasped hard, managing to rasp out a single, _“harder.”_

There was the split second Shiro hesitated, but he growled, and his continued words of _Keith, so fucking good, you're so good, baby,_ all melted into the background as Shiro drove him into the mattress. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin wove itself in between Keith's pathetic moans, his breathy pleading. He could feel his own nails digging into the skin of his hands, numbed and belonging to someone else. Keith's legs bent themselves at a harsh angle, squeezing Shiro's waist in their own solicitation. Shiro forced him open again with every harsh thrust, every motion making Keith's vision burst and the colors slide against each other like oil on water. 

It was only in the feeling of Shiro's tensing thighs that Keith felt himself relax and strain. Shiro's grip had turned into a vise, his groin grinding into Keith's ass and rendering him nauseous. 

“Come,” Shiro demanded, releasing Keith's throat and moving his grip to his hair. Air flooded Keith's burning lungs and he choked, whining as Shiro forced his head back. He felt the strands around trapped hair disconnect from his scalp, and Shiro forced his pliant body to arch against his, his cock unrelenting as it pounded deeper into Keith. 

Shiro grunted his demand into Keith's ear again, and it was with one final, long, harder thrust that everything broke. Keith came in white rivulets against his own abdomen, gasping hard with Shiro's name clinging to his throat. Keith buried it into his shoulder, biting hard into the scarred skin. His insides broiled, and every roll of his hips against Shiro's dick excoriated with the feeling of too little lube used between them. 

But Keith cried out in continued ecstasy, barely-stifled screams pressed into Shiro's neck. Shiro didn't pull back, thrusting hard one final time into Keith. He came with his own labored grunt, sliding against Keith as far as his body would let him go, painting his insides white. 

Keith gulped the musky air into his lungs, the blankets swallowing him as he fell back into their too-warm embrace. Combined with Shiro's weight caving onto his own, he felt fit to implode. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Shiro muttered, petting the growing bruise at Keith's neck. “God, baby...” 

Shiro's words were a song that wormed its way into Keith's ear, and he smiled weakly, returning what he could with his ruined voice. 

Distantly, in the corner of their darkened room, Kolivan called for Keith from his uniform's intercom.


End file.
